Some years ago, I questioned a police officer who was engaging the press in Tema about police operations. After his impressive explanation of police work, I felt moved to ask a simple question: why do officers sometimes hide in anticipation of an offence and only step out to apprehend offenders after the act, instead of positioning themselves visibly to prevent it altogether?

My question was inspired by something I had witnessed. Near my residence, there is a ring road that allows motorists to drive some distance before turning back to join the opposite lane. However, some drivers prefer using an unapproved shortcut. What I often observed was that police officers would hide behind a large tree at night and stop motorists only after they had used the shortcut. This left me wondering: why not stay visibly at the spot to deter the act entirely?

A similar dynamic, in my view, appears to play out in the removal or attempted removal of certain public officials. The dismissals of former Electoral Commission (EC) Chairperson, Madam Charlotte Osei, and former Chief Justice, Justice Gertrude Torkornoo—as well as petitions involving the current EC Chair, Madam Jean Mensa, and the Special Prosecutor, Mr Kissi Agyebeng—have stirred national debate.

In the cases of Madam Osei and Justice Torkornoo, their removals followed constitutionally mandated processes triggered by petitions and subsequent findings. Currently, petitions have also been received regarding the EC Chairperson, two deputies, and the Special Prosecutor. While some view these petitions through a political lens, others argue that constitutional mechanisms simply take their course when allegations—rightly or wrongly—are raised.

Yet the broader question remains: why do issues that become grounds for removal seem to go unaddressed for long periods, only to surface later under different political administrations? The situation invites reflection on whether preventive oversight mechanisms within public institutions are functioning as effectively as they should.

Another observation is that when allegations arise, discussions often become polarised. Some interpret petitions as politically motivated, while others argue that officers must adhere strictly to procedures to avoid exposure to such processes. The truth is likely somewhere in between: Ghana’s constitutional system allows citizens to file petitions, but institutions also have the responsibility to ensure strong internal controls to prevent avoidable administrative missteps.

This brings us back to the analogy of the police behind the tree. In a healthy governance system, checks and balances should exist to prevent procedural lapses before they become grounds for petitions or disciplinary actions. Where oversight structures are weak or inconsistently applied, officials may find themselves vulnerable to scrutiny long after decisions have been made.

It is also worth noting that petitions sometimes emerge under one administration but are acted upon under another, giving rise to public perceptions—fair or not—of political undercurrents. Such perceptions underscore the need for stronger institutional safeguards that minimise the possibility of retrospective fault-finding and protect the integrity of public service roles.

As it stands, Madam Charlotte Osei and Justice Torkornoo are no longer in office, and depending on the outcomes of ongoing processes, others may or may not follow. Whether or not any particular petition succeeds, the recurring pattern suggests that Ghana must strengthen systems that promote transparency, accountability, and proactive compliance, rather than reactive sanction.

Ultimately, Ghana’s democracy depends on the robustness and fairness of its institutions. Public office holders must be mindful of their actions, and the state must ensure consistent oversight to prevent avoidable controversies. Our collective responsibility is to safeguard the credibility of democratic governance and resist the temptation—by any political actor—to exploit institutional weaknesses for partisan advantage.